there aren't enough stars to please you
by suepf
Summary: (Later, when Emily kisses her, she swears she can taste the venom on her skin.) Emily tells herself over and over again that she can't keep feeling like this.


Everything that's happened up until 5x05 hasn't happened here, except the kidnapping story that Ali pulled out of her ass. Not supposed to follow canon, but you could dream if you'd like.

You can find it on AO3 under the same title name if that's more your style.

* * *

Her fixation for the minor details gets her in trouble, more often than not. She doesn't know how to keep her thoughts in check and she feels it has more to do with who she's hanging around as opposed to who she actually is.

If it was up to her, she would keep these details in the spot between her head and her heart so that she could feel the weight of things sitting on her collarbone, ready to crack open what she's spent so long trying to get out.

"Where's your head, Em?" Alison was always one to ask questions, and after coming back to a group of girls who asked the wrong ones, it doesn't come as a surprise to Emily anymore how she managed to know all their secrets.

Hanna butts in this time, which comes as a relief to the girls, who had become almost nostalgic around the blonde, kept in a state of equilibrium when Hannah had her shit together and not all over the bathroom floor, "maybe still in Noel's restroom with that girl."

(Nowadays, even excitement was only a brief pulse before the straight line pulled them all back to their ongoing tragedy.)

"What girl?" Alison is smiling now, tight-lipped and painful, with her head tilted to the side as if she was trying to shake the information out of her ear. Emily hoped briefly that it would drown her, instead.

"Nobody special," and Emily meant that, but then Hanna continued, "she looked like you made her feel _real_ special."

Emily supposes that snapping on Hanna would be ruining this content moment of sobriety, but if a toothpick was all that was holding Hanna above the influence, it's only a matter of time before it snaps.

Emily decides to stay silent, for Hanna's sake, and looks down at her food again, wondering when she became held up by toothpicks, too.

* * *

Emily has a dream she'd have to pray to forget, but she doesn't want to shake the lingering feeling of Alison's tongue inching toward where she wants it most.

She can't look her in the eye the next day, and Alison's smirk _infuriates_ her.

* * *

At Noel's second Back To School Party, Emily finds another girl. A blonde, of course, drinking vulnerability in a red cup and giggling all the way to the restroom.

She pushes into her desperately from her position in between the girls legs, the cupboards under the sink noisily slamming closed against her knees from the sheer force of her thrusts.

Emily never kisses them, and they never return the favor, but Emily has enough marks on her back to remind her of exactly what she's become.

She leaves the bathroom before the girl stumbles out and makes her way into the foyer where the kids are dancing and drinking, and she meets Alison's eyes from across the room.

When the blonde approaches her, she swallows thickly, "so that's what Hanna meant."

She brushes up against Emily, and then walks past her, leaving Emily stricken.

The next day at lunch, Hanna's head rests on the table, too hungover to remember Emily was at the party at all.

* * *

Alison's standing behind Emily's locker door, and when she closes it, Emily stares at her like she's petrified; maybe she is.

"You've been avoiding me," it's a statement if Emily ever heard one, and it's the last thing she wants to talk about, so she doesn't. She turns away from the girl who always rooted her to her spot, "come by my place after school, Em?"

She doesn't turn back and she doesn't stop by.

* * *

Alison is nothing if not a relentless, arrogant, _attractive_, pest.

Emily finds it in herself to hate all these traits she used to love.

* * *

Rosewood is considerably the smallest town that Emily has thought possible to exist, if only because she seems to run into the people that suffocate her behind every corner.

She's running an errand for her mom and finds Paige at the supermarket, buying food tolerable enough for the swim team's standards, and waves an awkward hello.

She didn't know why she had thought she'd be let off so easy.

"How've you been?" it starts off as platonic as any conversation in front of the dairy aisle should, but then there's a hand on Emily's elbow, and barely disguised, pleading eyes boring into hers, and she comes to the conclusion that she's been holding her breath for over a week now.

When Alison _collides_ into her, groceries falling around the trio, she hates her even more for being the reason her lungs finally contract, letting out a sigh of relief.

She takes the bait and crouches down to put Alison's things back in her bag, thanking _god_ that Paige walks away from them. Emily timidly lets her eyes drift from the yellow carton of eggs to the swell of the girl's breasts near the cut of her top, to blue eyes that promised that they would forget what they just saw.

Emily stares at Alison unapologetically, and assumes that they look like the odd ones out staring at each other over granola bars and eggs.

"You can't avoid me forever," Alison is smiling in that painful way again and Emily picks at the skin around her thumb nail with her index finger, "I'm not avoiding you."

Alison chuckles and nods, "you can just admit to it, my feelings won't be any more hurt."

Emily stands and looks down at Alison before focusing on the cart next to her, "I thought the prerequisite for feelings was a conscience."

Ali stands at that, and puts her hands on her hips so as to not make the same mistake as Paige and touch the one person nobody thought would have it in her to explode, "is this about my story?"

It is and it isn't, but Emily can't say that because it would lead to an explanation of _what else is there_ and she wasn't sure there was much else but a hatred of herself, for still being obsequious enough to notice the inflections in Alison's voice when she's telling a lie, or the way that they've been catching each other's gazes when they thought the other wasn't looking.

"It's not your story, Alison. It's another lie that we have to tell to officials and parents and friends, for _you_."

Alison stands now, still looking up at Emily, but making herself feel ten times larger, "after we catch this son of a bitch we won't-"

"What we won't do is ever catch them. It's been almost three years, two of which you've been gone for, _fine_, while we stayed here and suffered, because of you, and later, _for you_."

Alison narrows her eyes and spits out through a scowl that Emily knows has no business being there, "you don't know what I went through."

Emily smiles disdainfully, a smile she would consider the most genuine expression to grace her face in a while, and laughs once; an abrupt, dry laugh.

Alison watches her wide smile as if each tooth was a predator on it's bounty for her.

She observes the vein on Emily's neck that tantalizingly pulsates, and comes to the realization that maybe Emily has a breaking point, too.

As Emily walks away, she throws over her shoulder, "I don't know anything about you."

* * *

At Noel's third Back To School Party, Emily drinks like she has something to celebrate.

She never gets drunk, but just tipsy enough to alter her reservations and reach for another blonde.

(She doesn't remember when she became the reckless one of them all).

Before she gets to the restroom, she spots Alison in the corner of the room; a tall, dark-haired boy with his arm on the wall above her, talking with a smirk on his face.

Emily sees the plain look on Alison's face, and has observed her meticulously enough to know that it's a cover for either disinterest or discomfort, and knowing that some bumbling asshole was the object of any of Alison's feelings-negative or positive-made Emily's blood boil. She could blame her actions on the alcohol, but the argument is weak, knowing that she would do much worse sober.

She walks as gracefully as she can with two beers making a home in her empty stomach, but stops when Alison's eyes land on her, a few feet away from the boy.

When the idiot paws at her waist and suggests making good use of a room upstairs, Alison's eyes turn into a challenge, her frown into a smirk, and Emily starts feeling like she's swallowing air instead of inhaling it.

"Whad'ya say, babe?" Alison pushes him off her lightly, says she's not interested.

The boy, however, insisted.

When Emily wills herself to reach them, she grabs his forearm and pulls him away from Ali, who found solace where the walls met.

She wouldn't ever admit that she was intimidated by the boy, who continued to slide his hands over her body no matter how serious her objections sounded.

The boy scowled at her, and when he clenched his fists and took a step forward, so did Alison.

"Back off, dyke," Emily's eyes darkened, and Alison felt her heart pounding painfully in her chest, crawling up her throat. She feels a hand on her collarbone pushing her back against the wall, and doesn't realize it was Emily until she sees the girl reel that same arm back quickly and throw it forward, her fist connecting with the boy's nose, sending him to his knees.

Some conversations stop as people try to understand what _the fuck_ just happened, but the music keeps beating in the background, not nearly as deafening as the pain crawling up Emily's right arm.

She feels eyes on her, and self consciously licks her lips, staring at the boy trying to hold his blood in his hands like sand at the beach, but focusing entirely on the eyes burning holes in the back of her head.

Emily walked away from the boy, leaving Alison with eyes wide and astonished.

Alison doesn't admit to things, _ever_, but she felt a pang of regret when she noticed the blood dripping over Emily's knuckles.

Noel had to clean the blood off the floor when he realized people were disregarding it and starting to leave bloody footprints throughout his house.

The next day at lunch, Hanna kept timid eyes on Emily's bandaged hand, not saying a word.

* * *

Her mom is worried about her. Worried enough to call her father and force her to engage in conversation from over a thousand miles away.

"Hey, Emmy," regardless of what she's going through, she smiles, because she really has missed him, "hey, dad. How's Texas?"

"Would be much nicer if you guys were here. How are you, sweetie?" Emily looks at her mom pretending not to be eavesdropping from the kitchen, and turns toward the window in the living room that they just finished repairing.

"I've been good," her dad hums and it takes everything in her not to break down when he asks her how she's really feeling.

"I'm honestly fine, dad, just a rough couple weeks is all, promise."

"You haven't been doing drugs, have you?"

"What? Of course not, c'mon, dad."

"A father has his worries," she almost hears him shrugging, "is it a girl?"

She takes a deep breath and feels like she's still holding it in even when she replies, "Ali's back."

"DiLaurentis?" she clenches her jaw and nods, replying with a weak yes.

"Wow," as comfortable as Emily has become in her own silence, the silence of others was something that _penetrated_, _darkened_,_ripped apart_, the best parts of her, "I don't know what to say."

"I didn't either."

"I can't imagine what you must be feeling. What happened to her?"

Emily looks at the window again, her mom's eyes on her, and feels almost empty, as if the car through their house was the perfect centerpiece, setting the ambiance that mostly resembled the structure of her life; shattered.

She swallows Ali's story like a dry pill and sighs, "I wish I knew."

* * *

When she asks Spencer for Percocet, Spencer slams her locker shut and glares at her as if she was just rudely awakened.

"Are you kidding me?"

"My hand is on fire, Spence. Please." Spencer shifts her weight and crosses her arms across her chest, "nobody asked you to go all rocky and knock out Brad."

"Nobody would've asked me either, if I hadn't done it myself."

"And why did you do it again?" Emily picks at the tape on her right hand with her left and bites her cheek, "he wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Everyone in Rosewood knows you're notoriously gay, Em." Emily shakes her head, hair bobbing from side to side as she looks at her feet, "he was bothering Ali."

Spencer clicks her tongue at that, and Emily didn't know why she thought she'd be surprised.

All Emily did lately was because of her.

Even when Alison was dead and buried, Emily was stuck mourning by herself, standing on her toes and waiting for the next glimpse of Ali she could find, the next brush of lips on hers, the next memory she could make with a rotten body.

(It turns out that Alison is just as rotten above the ground as she is below it).

"Emily, you have to stop. You can't let her keep getting to you like this. There are so many better things you could be doing instead of protecting Ali. We both know she never needed it, anyway."

Emily scoffs, "You act like I still have feelings for her."

"Do you?" her tone is borderline pitiful, and when Emily sees Alison rounding the corner of the hall with a tight blue skirt and those dark eyes, her mouth dries up, and the tape on her hand feels tighter than before, cutting her circulation, making her almost grateful for the fact that her heart can take a break, not having to pump blood to her whole body, anymore.

"No. I don't."

She delivers the lie like a thief, stealing the severity of the moment with greedy hands and a flippant disregard to the tightening in her chest when Alison's lips twitch up as their eyes meet.

She doesn't.

* * *

Sometimes Emily thinks about the first time she saw Alison after those two years.

She remembers the way that she tried to get a good look at her all at once like she'd disappear if her eyes didn't stay _there_, _everywhere_, _on her_.

She still feels the curve of Alison's body melting into her own as they hugged, the way that Alison squeezed her tighter than she ever had.

The one thing that left the biggest impression on her, though, was the way Ali looked as she ran away from her, keeping glossy eyes on her from inside the elevator that would take her away from Emily for the second time.

The thought of running after her had kicked in, akin to a maternal instinct, yet more predatory.

She tried to imagine what it would be like if she wasn't always the one to be left running.

(She couldn't).

She had spent a lot of time wondering why getting left behind came so easy to her.

She figured that it was Alison's fault; that she didn't know how to feel anything, not even a semblance of something deliciously life-changing.

Putting the blame on Alison was supposed to strengthen her bones, it was supposed to ignite her relationship with Paige, but as soon as Emily's determination fell through, so did any concept of happiness with anyone that wasn't _her_.

She stopped wondering a while ago if she'll ever stop running.

Or if Alison would ever let her catch up.

* * *

She follows Alison into the bathroom during school in one last, brazen attempt to find herself before she got irrevocably lost.

"Did you mean what you said?" Ali turns around with a start, and looks surprised that Emily sought her out first.

"When?" Emily's left hand scratches at her right, the knuckles still scabbed over with the memory of the party, "when you told me you missed me the most?"

She doesn't understand the angle she's coming from, or why she even decided to talk to Alison in the first place, but she feels vulnerable today, almost sad of playing a part she wasn't designed to.

"Of course, Em. You already knew that."

Emily didn't know much of anything nowadays, but she kept her mouth shut and nodded, fluttering her eyelids to keep from crying and looking at a tile on the ground to not lose her resolve and touch Ali in the first time since _she can't even remember_.

"Well what about me?" they didn't realize that Hanna was in a stall until she clumsily slurred the affirmation of her presence.

The door swings open and she's standing between Alison and Emily, swaying dangerously on her feet, "didn't you miss me, Alison?"

Emily almost forgets that her fucked up life consists of more people than just herself, sometimes.

But with the way that Alison looks at her briefly, as if the moment they were sharing was perfect, and then away at Hanna like she just ruined what was so _vital_ to her, she thinks she'd prefer it if she was the only one suffering.

She spends the whole day picking at her hand until she's bare and bleeding.

At home, after the bleeding stops, she uses extra wrap she finds in her bag, and she hopes that covering up the problem will finally be enough, for once.

* * *

She is not invited to Noel's fourth Back To School Party, but that doesn't stop her from showing up.

She prides herself on being able to attract just about anyone she wants, and today, being a particularly bad day, she wants her. she _needs_ her; but she stops herself before she goes over to her, always in that goddamn corner, because _what the fuck em she doesn't want you back_.

She settles for the next best thing, and finds her way over to a different blonde, a taller one, with green eyes instead of blue, and thin lips instead of plump, and she loses a bit more of her resolve with every noise the blonde makes that doesn't sound like Ali.

She keeps glancing between the girl that isn't Ali and the only Ali that ever _can be_ and she's shaking, her desperation acting like warm and familiar hands that wrap around her throat until she can't breathe.

Alison had been watching her for a few minutes, studying how she could wrap another blonde around her finger without so much as looking at her.

Emily's eyes never left hers, only sometimes sliding over her body hungrily, lovingly.

Eventually, the blonde that wasn't, _couldn't ever be_ Ali walked away from her, realizing that she was not the center of attention, and Alison stood in her place.

She grabbed Emily by the hand and walked her over to the restroom, closing the door behind them and turning to the brunette with clouded eyes.

"Treat me like you treat them," this demand sends Emily reeling back to all the times she's occupied this bathroom with her strong body, accompanied by the whimpers and moans of whoever she deemed the closest thing to the girl in front of her.

What a joke that she thought anyone could even come close.

"I can't," and she means it.

She feels her heart beating on each fingertip, and as the urge to touch Alison grows stronger, so does the urge to turn around and let her be the flawless girl Emily had always imagined her to be.

She didn't want to ruin what ruined her, and the thought displeased her to the point of deliberate insanity.

She should _hate_ Alison.

She should.

"Why not?" Alison furrows her eyebrows and crosses her arms, offended for a reason Emily wasn't entirely aware of.

"I just can't," but Alison won't stop asking until she gets an answer.

"Cut the crap, Em. Treat me like any other blonde you've touched, and don't tell me there's not a pattern. I see each of them; blonde, short, and walking on weak knees like infants when you're done with them."

"Stop."

Alison is rambling, cheeks red and eyes darting from the towel rack to the toilet.

It infuriates Emily because she realizes that she has never heard Alison talk this much and she doesn't know how many more sides of her she has to discover before they run out.

"What are you waiting for?" she's looking at her now, with those bright blue eyes, and she stutters around her response, falling into the girl in front of her, the only girl she's ever wanted in front of her, "I just, I can't, okay? It's not, it's not about every other blonde, I just, _can't_ do this."

"Do you want me to go get barbie back? Maybe I can go find Brad and I can show him what he was really missing out on," Alison shrugs, and lets the smile snake its way onto her mouth.

(Later, when Emily kisses her, she swears she can taste the venom on her skin).

She steels herself this time, because Emily can handle Alison's empty threats as well as she can handle her own weight these days.

She clenches her jaw and exhales through her nose, closing her eyes as she responds pathetically, "go ahead."

Emily keeps her eyes closed, hoping to feel Alison going around her and out the door, but the movement never comes, and she opens her eyes.

Alison is still standing in front of her, eyes narrowed, like maybe Emily was playing a joke on her.

"Well," Emily asks shakily, "what are you waiting for?" she turns around and opens the door for Alison, gesturing nobly toward the hallway, to Brad and anyone else worthy enough to spend the night with the only Ali that can be.

Alison sighs, and Emily has never heard her sound this irritated, "close the door, Em."

"Not until you get out of here," she's just being childish now, she knows it, and so does Alison, but that doesn't deter her anymore. Alison knows everything.

"I'm not leaving and neither are you."

If you were to ask Emily if she ever regretted anything, she would say that she didn't. She was the type of person that realized early the concept of living life to the fullest, because there can only ever be one life that's _yours_.

She regrets finally exploding, though, more than any mistake she's ever made.

The anger bubbling in her chest and rising up her throat like bile was supposed to show her that she couldn't keep swallowing her problems, hoping to digest them later.

(You can't digest a rock).

"_Fuck you_, Alison. I don't owe you _anything_ anymore," Alison can tell just how serious Emily was, because she never cursed, _ever_.

And maybe Emily was playing it off a bit more than she had to, acting a bit more angry than she felt.

Honestly, she was exhausted.

She feels the blood coursing through the veins of her legs; her neck trying to give out from under her head that's a black hole, now, absorbing everything and refusing to give it back; the pounding of her right hand that selfishly imitates her heart, never healing.

Alison steps towards her and she takes a step back, "you're right."

Emily feels like she's never wanted to be more wrong.

(She's tired of every detail; her collarbone is broken now and she thought she'd have more to get out than this).

Emily walks out of the bathroom, alone.

The next day during lunch, Hanna leaves ten minutes in, and nobody sees her meet up with Caleb, but they all know exactly who she's with.

* * *

Alison has been avoiding her and she never wanted to admit to herself how much it hurt.

She would see flashes of blonde all throughout town and it would never be the right shade, but it always left an impression on Emily that she couldn't shake.

When she bumped into a blonde she distinctly remembered-April or June or May, some monthly name she couldn't put her finger on-the flirting happened effortlessly.

When she found herself in a restroom that _wasn't_ Noel's, _an occupied public restroom_, she had to keep a hand on _apriljunemay's_ mouth to keep the moans at an unnoticeable volume.

Emily kissed her neck, nipping at all the curves that weren't familiar, and sliding her hand up the girl's thigh, towards her underwear.

She pushed inside her quickly, inserting another finger when she was wet enough, and Emily started to think back to when she wasn't this person, whoever this person was.

She was an enigma now. Her parent's continually worried, and she bets that her friends would too if it wasn't for their own problems they couldn't quite fix.

She knows exactly where she is, pushing into tight, wet heat, filling this girl and glaring at her every time she moaned a bit too loud, but she couldn't for the life of her figure out why she felt so lost.

(It turns out that _apriljunemay's_ name was actually _November_ and Emily couldn't even find it in herself to laugh at the stupidity of it all).

* * *

She find's Hanna plastered on her front porch and almost tells her to get lost. But then she sees the tears, and hears those desperate hiccups, and she knows she could never turn down her best friend.

"Caleb wants to leave," Hanna sobs as she says it, and maybe it brings Emily back to herself a bit.

"Why?"

Hanna shrugs pathetically, her top sliding down her shoulder, exposing her smooth skin, "he can't deal with this, anymore."

Emily doesn't know what else to say to that, so she holds Hanna in silence, brushing her hair out of her face and flipping through channels to try to find something.

Hanna starts playing with her right hand, the scabs white now, a devilish contrast with her skin, and asks seriously, "what's happening to us, Em?"

Emily wished she had the answers for Hanna's sake alone.

She shrugs instead, lifting her hand and examining her white knuckles like trophies on display.

The stark difference is eerily familiar, and it makes her feel like she couldn't shake off even the constellations on her hands.

"We're falling apart."

Hanna sniffles and asks groggily, "but why?"

It's the first question Emily has an answer to, but the weight of her response can make the situation _that much more_ present in her mind, and she's so afraid of flying high above her problems, that she'd rather be buried underneath them.

(No pun intended).

"I don't know," and among everything she hasn't meant these past few weeks, this makes her feel like she's stealing from Hanna in the most innocent of ways.

Bitterly, the girl on her lap retorts, "ever since Ali came back everything's changed," after a pause, "_everyone_."

They know that they're the only ones who have changed blatantly, and maybe that's why they were always the closest, their tragedies interconnecting.

Emily changes the subject quickly, "I think you should forget about Caleb. If you aren't a good enough reason to stay, then he isn't a good enough reason to hurt."

Shrugging has become their forte, lately.

"Maybe you're right," Hanna lifts her head to look up at her now, eyes twinkling with the remnants of sadness she almost doesn't want to let go of, and smiles weakly, plainly.

The moment their lips meet, they both sigh, relieved.

Their lips brush against each other, once, twice, until they are just pressed together, two puzzle pieces from different sets.

It only lasts a couple seconds, long enough to seal their unspoken promise.

They huddle together for the rest of the night, eating dinner with Mrs. Fields, and feeling a bit more like things are looking up.

They never speak of the kiss, and it never happens again; it doesn't have to.

* * *

Emily stares at Alison from behind her locker door during school ever day, and today, she smiles.

She watches Alison talking to one of her teachers outside of his classroom and feels a warm drip in her stomach like an IV sack.

She can't help but curse the flush for crawling up her neck and to her cheeks when Alison bites her lip in confusion.

Emily kissed those lips years ago, and if she can imagine just hard enough, it feels like she never stopped.

* * *

When Emily doesn't have anyone to talk to, she finds solace in the nonjudgmental way that Aria looks at her, even when she knows there's a lot to judge.

"What's up, Em?"

Emily grins shyly, "can I talk to you about something?"

Aria nods and leads the way to her bedroom. She closes the door behind her as Emily settles on her bed and she starts, "what's on your mind?"

"Well, _everything_, but mostly Alison."

Aria nods like she was expecting this, and Emily thinks that maybe she's been ticking like a bomb for weeks now, "do you still have feelings for her?"

Emily puts her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, "maybe? Yes, I don't know. It eats me alive before I can figure it out."

Aria is looking at her seriously now, like maybe she's gone through the same thing, and Emily doesn't doubt that she has. Her relationship with Ezra was too delicate to even cast a hard look at, she couldn't imagine what they're going through and doesn't even believe she can with all that's happening to her.

"Did this start when she came back?"

Emily shrugs, "I feel like it's just been dormant since she disappeared and now that she's back I buzz under the radar. It's like a cancer and I am so_sick to my stomach_."

"People go into remission, Em, and they get through things like this."

"What if I _can't_?"

"Then you're not the Emily Fields we thought you were."

Aria is looking at her like she believes that she can overcome this and Emily is glad that she at least has this support, "I understand why you're hung up on Alison, but you have to realize that you can't fix things sometimes, no matter how badly it's broken or how badly you want to."

Emily stares at the cracks on the wooden floor and thinks back to when she felt like her heart didn't resemble them, "it's up to you, Em. I have a feeling you know Alison better than we do, whether she let you in or not, she does care about you, but you can't keep living hoping that she will genuinely act out on her feelings. I'm not even sure she knows how, and it's not your job to teach her."

She lets Aria's words sink into the deepest crevices of her stomach as she drives home, and blames the nausea on the lunch she had, instead of on that sick churning feeling that she's started to correlate with love.

* * *

Hanna's at Emily's door again and she's not taking no for an answer.

"Please come out tonight," she's begging Emily to go to the Homecoming Dance that she was purposefully avoiding, if only to not see everyone she didn't want to.

Hanna was wearing a light purple dress, cut at the knees and collarbone, exposing her cleavage and accentuating her toned shoulders.

Emily wondered for the first time why her heart never skipped beats for Hanna, who would've at least let her down easier than Alison.

"Hanna-"

"Before you say no, just think about it. It's our last homecoming dance and A hasn't bothered us for a week," Emily scoffs, "what better time to come after us than where we don't want it and won't be expecting it?"

Hanna looks better than the last time she was on her porch, and when she sighs Emily can tell that she's really trying.

"If this is about Alison, I don't-"

"Why does everything have to be about her?" Emily snapped, raising her voice in volume and acidity.

"Because it always has been, Em. Even when she was dead we were haunted by her killer, and now she's the one haunting us."

Emily shakes her head forlornly, and Hanna picks at her one more time in hopes that she'll budge, "do you really want to let her ruin one of your lasts just because she's your first?"

Hanna watches with relief as Emily quirks an eyebrow and smirks slightly, "isn't drinking supposed to kill brain cells?"

"Asshole, does this mean you're coming?"

Emily shrugs self consciously, "I don't have a dress."

If the glint in Hanna's eye was any indication, Emily was in trouble.

"I know what you can wear."

* * *

The Homecoming Dance is as flashy as she remembered any school dance to be and she momentarily _despises_ it before she remembers she's here to have _fun_.

She itches to pick at the lethal wedgie developing, but Hanna has her gripped ludicrously by the forearm, afraid that she'd make a hasty escape.

Back at home, Hanna had dragged her upstairs and sat her down on her bed, threatening her to stay still. She had disappeared, then, to Mrs. Fields room, where she found what she was looking for.

"I look like I'm here to solve a murder," Emily grunts, running her hand through her hair and fixing the jacket on her body as best she could.

Hanna shrugs, "cops are hot, Em."

"People are staring."

"Let them stare. There's lots to look at," Hanna winks at her before pulling her over to Spencer and Aria, who sit with Toby at a makeshift table made to look elegant.

"Why aren't any of you guys dancing?" Hanna shouts over the music, and Emily smiles because she knows that this is as genuinely happy as Hanna's going to get.

Emily sits down when they all stand up to go, and she waves the girls off when they exclaim that they won't go without her, "have fun guys, honestly. I'm good here."

She watches Spencer and Toby dancing like idiots and it almost makes her jealous, the way that they've lasted throughout everything and the semblance of comfort they have when they're together.

She doesn't want to dwell on something she's already been sulking over for weeks now, but the feeling does nothing but intensify, almost as if it's been specifically programmed to fight her to the death.

(She hopes it wins and finally puts her out of her misery).

She's huddled over the table now, her elbows resting on the mantle with her chin cupped in her left hand, right leg bouncing anxiously.

The hand tapping her shoulder isn't supposed to surprise her as much as it does, but they've all been especially jumpy as of late.

She turns around quickly, and is met with Alison, in quite arguably the _hottest_ thing Emily has ever seen her wear.

It's not even that its sinfully short or drastically revealing, but the dress looks like it's fighting its hardest to make what is already perfect into _the hardest thing for Emily to try to let go of_.

She's getting tired of sounding redundant, but life really isn't fair.

She soaks it all up, the way the white material of the dress wraps around Alison like a glove, and the minor details that sparkle under the shitty lighting in the gymnasium, and she can't help but stand jerkily when she realizes that she's absolutely fucked, and for the first time in a long time around Alison, absolutely _fucking_ nervous.

Emily makes a low, choking sound that Alison can't hear over the music, and stutters out, "hey, hi. You look, uh," Alison grins and looks down at herself as Emily wrings her hands in front of her, "beautiful."

She doesn't know where the girl from Noel's party went, but Emily can't find it in herself to be mad at Alison like she was before, like she has been ever since she came back.

She feels the guilt, like a balloon filling up with air about to pop, and she can't handle it.

"Thanks, Em. I like the change," Alison gestures toward her body, and Emily grabs her hand before it went back to rest at her side, "I'm sorry. About what I said at Noel's. I didn't mean it."

Alison smiles tightly as she blinks, bringing her eyes to the floor and squeezing Emily hand softly, "dance with me."

"Okay."

They danced with a foot of distance between them, and Emily didn't mind. She felt safer this way, because the closer to Alison she stood, the more her self-control made a fool out of her.

But then a slow song came on, and Alison stood still, surrounded by a mass of people that whispered cruel words about her every day, and Emily pulled her close by the waist, cursing herself for still caring enough to want to shield her from everything.

Ali slowly lifts her arms and places them around Emily's neck, her eyes at the height of Emily's nose, but she closes them.

(She used to watch people suffer, but nowadays she had the decency to look away).

Having Alison this close to her, smelling the perfume she wore, following the slant of her nose that leads to her penetrating gaze; Emily tried to ignore her heartbeat hammering in her chest straining to understand the anomalies of her yearning, and she felt simultaneously like she was frozen and on fire.

"I remember telling Paige once that I didn't think you knew how to love anybody," if Emily felt the girl she was holding by the waist stiffen, she didn't acknowledge it, "that I could hear my heart cracking inside me."

Alison kept her eyes closed, and Emily squeezed her waist, sliding her left hand to her lower back and clenching her jaw, "look at me."

"Not here, Emily."

"Fine," Emily smiles tightly and grabs Alison by the wrist, squeezing hard enough to leave marks and pulling her through the gym, down the hall, and to the first classroom she could find.

She closes the door behind her and puts one hand on her hip, the jacket shes wearing flapping behind her arm, and runs her other hand through her hair, breathing out shakily.

Alison wanders around the room, settling at the teacher's desk, and lifting herself to sit on the edge.

Emily has her back turned to Alison as she speaks, "I've pictured this moment every day ever since you came back and I never get it right."

Ali opens her mouth to speak, to ask _more fucking questions_ that Emily will never want to give her the answers to, but she's interrupted, "and I think it's mostly because I don't want to. I thought for a while that it was because I couldn't, but I can't deal with it anymore, Alison."

"What are you talking ab-"

"I love you."

Emily tries to swallow with a dry mouth, but only ends up bringing tears to her eyes that make her strain each word so that she doesn't sound as pathetic as she feels, "and you can put a gun to my head and ask me to lie to you and you'd have to pull the trigger, because I can't keep torturing myself with this."

Alison's heartbeats are making her entire body vibrate, and she's sure the only reason Emily can't hear it is because her's is beating louder, "what do you want from me?"

"I want you to give me something for once," Emily turns around as she says it, and walks up to Alison until she has both hands on either side of her, gripping the desk, "I want to know what you got out of torturing me."

Alison swallowed thickly, feeling the heat radiating from Emily's body, and trying her hardest to not look away from the dedicated glare that was being thrown at her, "I tortured everyone."

Emily shakes her head, "not like this."

Alison places her hands over Emily's and listens to her intake of breath, "you're right, Em. I didn't torture anyone like I tortured you," her hands are sliding up Emily's forearms now, squeezing at the elbow, "I never let anyone look at me the way that you did," Alison's pale hands slide over Emily's chest, up her collarbone, and around her neck, where her fingers interlock, "I never let anyone get this close to me."

Emily swallows her whimper when she sees Alison's tongue poke out to swipe at her upper lip, "why do you play so many games with me?"

Alison tugs her forward slightly, just enough for Emily to blame gravity on her descent towards Alison, "because I like to win, silly."

Emily's lips aren't how Alison remembers them. They're plumper, softer, and they fight against Alison's now instead of letting hers take over.

Emily's hands are gripping her hips now, dangerously close to her ass, and Alison feels the way that Emily is kissing her like a book being read aloud.

She captures every detail, the fact that Emily can't keep her hands in _just one spot_ on her body, to the way her mouth opens slowly against hers, more sensual than Alison has ever experienced.

Emily feels enough pressure in her head to stabilize a tiny galaxy, knowing that her thoughts are running through her mind so loudly that she hears silence.

Their tongues meet in the middle, sliding against each other tentatively, and when Emily swirls her tongue in Alison's mouth with a finesse she could've only acquired from experience, the feeling fuels Alison's lust and jealousy.

The blonde rakes her fingers through Emily's curls and digs her nails into her scalp, making Emily moan and reach under her to bring her body up from the desk and closer to her own.

Emily feels Alison wrap her legs around her waist and wastes no time turning to the wall and slamming Alison up against it, hard enough to get a grunt out of her that she couldn't care to be concerned over.

She runs her teeth over Alison's bottom lip, pulling it, and kissing her jaw, biting at an especially tender part of her neck before sucking gently, and finally reaching her ear, where she said breathlessly, "you'll never be like all those other girls."

Emily shuts her eyes tightly, using the wall to keep Alison supported and roaming her hands up her thighs, close enough to her core to know that Alison wanted more than just _mere proximity_-if her choked up _"please, em,"_ was anything to go by, also- but coming to terms with the fact that it wasn't something that she could afford to give her.

She lowers Alison gently, unwrapping her legs from around her waist and cupping her jaw in her hands, kissing her slowly and with as much intimacy as she could muster.

She slides their temples together until her forehead is touching the wall behind Alison, the blonde's pants being the only thing she could hear, "and I could never treat you as if you were."

She holds her for a while afterward, more for her own sake than for Alison's.

She wants the blonde to rip her apart, one last time, just to see if she had it in her.

In some perverse way, this was the bit of closure that Emily needed to start going back to normal, even if everything else was still crumbling around her.

"You were right, y'know," Emily brings her head back to look into the only shade of blue that could make her miss the sea, "about what?"

Alison smiles tightly, painfully, and Emily thinks that maybe she had been drowning all along, "you don't owe me anything, anymore."

When they go back to the dance, Emily can't find Hanna.

She hears from Spencer that she saw her walk out with Caleb; the second bane of Emily's existence.

Emily figured that if she could stop herself from fucking a pleading Alison up against a wall _twice_, then Hanna can fight against a bad influence that everybody knows has no interest involving itself with her.

(She had been so far up her in ass in denial, lately, that she forgot what it felt like to stare the sun in the eye and take shit for what it was).

* * *

Emily decided to pass on Noel's fifth Back To School Party, and ends up skipping each one after that.

Hanna stopped showing up to lunch, and eventually, Emily stopped regarding the empty spot next to her with contempt.


End file.
